May 24, 2021
Car talk
The riveting back story
Almost four months since we traded in our ailing 2001 VW Jetta for a 2017 VW Golf Wagon, we’ve finally gotten closure on all aspects of registering our new car in Oregon. At a time when many government offices were still closed to the public or offering limited services, we weren’t at all confident that we’d succeed in getting our vehicle registered here before our 90 day temporary Arizona license expired or even before we left the state for parts east.
It all came together though, remarkably enough. We succeeded in getting the car reregistered back in mid-April sometime, and the new plates arrived in the mail earlier this month. And finally, yesterday the new title arrived in the mail several months earlier than we’d anticipated. Done, done, and done.
So that’s one thrilling, edge of your seats car saga - just the sort of thing you hope to find when you open up a cycling blog, right? But wait - there’s more!
My sister Elizabeth’s car is even older than the Jetta was - it’s a 1998 Subaru Forester that dad passed on to her when he aged out of the driving business about seven years back, just before she drove it down to Portland to start a new life here.
So, a pretty old pile of metal. But just as my sister and I are quite different in many ways, so were our vintage vehicles. For one, hers looks pristine and well cared for, every hair in place; while mine looked more like, well, me. For another, hers has had a somewhat more sheltered life. Her drive down from Seattle seven years ago is the only significant journey the poor, underused Forester has seen since she acquired it. It’s mostly been sitting around in the basement of her condo ever since. Ours, in the meantime, has been on many significant and exciting adventures and seen a lot of the western world - the Canadian Rockies, Death Valley, the Bitterroots, the Cascades, the Pacific.
Elizabeth’s, at age 23, has only 130 thousand miles on it, has one tiny scratch on a passenger-side door, and is still quite the catch. Mine, at age 19, had seen 190 thousand miles; and had many dents, dings and scratches, a front bumper held up off the pavement by strapping tape, and a broken glove box held in place by a bicycle inner tube; and netted us a generous $300 in trade-in value when we bought the Raven.
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You might remember that when we bought the Raven we checked in with Elizabeth to see if she’d be interested in car-sharing it after we returned home. She could get rid of the Forester and use our car instead. Rocky and I are mostly on the road anyway, and in exchange for use of a newer car she’d provide a safe haven for it down in the basement of her condo while we’re away. That’s why I’ve been taking Elizabeth out for driving lessons for the last month, introducing her to the features of a more modern car and helping her get comfortable with parking the Raven in her ultra-thin parking space.
What to do with the Forester though? She planned to just take it to CarMax; but in a surprise plot twist, at the last minute an unexpected bidder surfaced and tossed in a bid on the car, sight unseen: our friend Bruce, who’s ready finally to upgrade from his ancient Tercel to something more reliable. With me serving as the agent for both parties through some tense negotiations, a deal was finally reached. After agreeing on the sale, Bruce had only one further question about the car for me - what color is it? Being the unobservant being that I am, I told him I didn’t know but thought it was forest green - naturally enough, since it’s a Forester. I could sense a note of disappointment when I later let him know instead that it was white - stark, blinding white. For a moment I was afraid he’d back out of the deal, until he sensibly observed that white is the safest color.
The Big Title Transfer
So Monday is the big day, one that’s been on the calendar for almost two weeks. We have a 10 o’clock appointment over at Bruce and Andrea’s home to sign over the title and for Elizabeth, herself a master gardener, to get a tour of the amazing garden I’ve been telling her about.
The plan is that I’ll swing by Elizabeth’s with the Raven and we’ll caravan together over to Bruce and Andrea’s. After the signing and social activities, I’ll drive Elizabeth back home. At about 9:40 I call my sister and tell her I’ll be right over as soon as I gas up the Raven. Five minutes later I’m waiting at the gas pump at Radio Cab when I get a phone call from Elizabeth, sounding distressed and nearly in tears. She can’t get into her car. Such funny timing! I’m sure I startle and annoy my sister when I laugh out loud at hearing the news.
She meets me outside her condo and we walk down to her car together. I quickly recognize the problem, because I’ve seen this show before. Her car won’t unlock because her battery is stone cold dead. In a neat trick that I first learned from Bruce (another interesting plot twist - it’s uncanny the way these stories keep intertwining!), I point out that her remote opener also includes an actual physical key that she can use to unlock the door manually. I know this bit of auto-arcana from the time Rachael and I were similarly at our wits ends three years ago when we returned home after our two month tour of Greece and Albania. Arriving at our airport motel where we’d left the car for two months, we returned to find the Jetta as dead as concrete and couldn’t figure out how to get in until we called Bruce and he shared his little-known trick.
There is some tension when we wonder whether there’s something seriously wrong with the car and if renegotiations will be needed. I return home to await developments, and inform Bruce of the situation. An hour later Elizabeth calls me back to report that all is well - AAA came over to recharge her battery and diagnosed the problem. It’s an easy fix. She’d inadvertently left the interior light on a few days earlier when returning after dark from the store, so nothing is needed other than to rejuice the battery.
So, back on track. An hour later we’re at Bruce and Andrea’s having tea, coffee and Andrea’s amazing scones that I’ve forgotten the ingredients of, and then move on for a tour of the garden.
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Then, finally, down to the serious business of the day. Elizabeth has come well prepared - she has the title and a bill of sale, as well as practice copies of each demonstrating what needs to be completed and by whom. Funds are exchanged, documents are signed and transferred, handshakes are proffered, the deed is done. On to a new chapter.
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Would be so interesting to know how many 1998 Foresters have such low original miles.
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I have to admit, though, that I was confused by the initial "Explorer" description. I thought .. no way Bruce will take a vehicle that is both white and manufactured by Ford.
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